They looked at each other and more emotion swelled inside her. Oh God, this should not be happening. It felt like she was saying goodbye to him forever, and the wrench of loss she felt inside at that was all kinds of wrong. He smiled at her. “Okay, babe,” he said. “Here you go. You got what you came for. I’m back on U.S. soil. I guess I’ll see you at your office Monday morning.”
It was a little past noon on Friday. “Wait,” she said, frowning. “What will you do all weekend?”
He shrugged. “Not sure yet. Why?”
She struggled for words, for what to say. “You need to stay out of trouble. And out of the media.”
A shadow darkened his silvery eyes, but he grinned and gave her a look. “Oh yeah. Right. I’ll see if I can manage to behave myself for the next few days.”
“It’s not just the next few days.” She had to get back into business mode here and quick. “It’s for good, Dylan. This isn’t just a temporary stunt to make you look good. You seriously need to clean up your image if you want long-term sponsorship.”
“Right.” His mouth firmed and his eyes narrowed fractionally. “What do you do? Do you put your money where your mouth is and do some kind of charity work?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Yes. I do.”
“Oh.”
“I’m a Big Sister,” she told him. “I have a Little Sister, she’s twelve. She has no mom so I spend time with her doing girl stuff.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Good for you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes. It is good for me, actually. I get as much out of it as she does.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Brooke.”
She hesitated. “Okay. My mom will be freaking out about where I was. I’m going over to their place for dinner tomorrow night. Come with me.”
“To your parents’?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Sure. Why not? We have a big family, they don’t mind another person. My mom’s a good cook. You can have a home cooked meal and it will be nice and safe.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Whatever. Fine.”
“I gave you my cell phone number,” she said. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he muttered.
“Fine.” Back to cool and businesslike, she added, “Prove it by staying out of trouble all weekend. Want me to pick you up tomorrow night?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Drive carefully back to San Amaro.”
She blinked. “I will. You too.”
She watched him turn and push the cart loaded down with his gear out the door of the terminal. And swallowed hard through her suddenly tight, dry throat.
Yeah, he was real stoked to be here.
Driving the freeway reminded him of the last time he’d been here, headed back to San Amaro in a rental car just like this. Last time, his left foot had been in a cast and he’d been bummed about not being able to surf, but looking forward to seeing his buddy Matt.
He got that tight feeling in his chest, that feeling of not being able to breathe. Dammit. And even as he worked to control his breathing and get air into his constricted lungs, his heart started racing.
Fuck off, he was not having a panic attack now!
Maybe it was that fucking heartburn again. Sometimes it was hard to tell that from a panic attack. But he’d been taking the medication. For the heartburn. Not for the panic attacks. Because he hadn’t had one in ages.
With sweat popping out on his forehead, he changed lanes and exited the freeway, pulling into a convenience store parking lot. Jesus.
He sat there for a while, trying to use some of the relaxation techniques he’d learned in therapy. This was whacked. Just because he was back in San Amaro? This wasn’t even where his accident had happened, but last time he’d been here he’d still been recovering from his injury and then there had been all that shit with Matt and Corey that had gone down.
Memories of sitting in Matt’s living room, drinking beer when Corey had walked in played through his mind. She’d been so damn sweet and sexy, yawning, with tousled hair, right out of Matt’s bed, and she’d been hot as hell. Remembering how hot she’d been and how much fun they’d had, then remembering his last day there, how he’d wanted her to leave with him. How she’d refused.
He let out a long sigh. His heart still thumped, but in a more normal rhythm. The breeze wafting in the open window of the car cooled his face and he sucked in a big gulp of air. Okay. He was okay.
Remembering that time wasn’t as painful as it used to be. He’d had a lot of time to think about things, to process everything that had happened, to sort out his feelings. He’d finally gotten back in the water and he’d won some competitions. He couldn’t say he felt the same as he had before the accident, or before he’d spent those weeks in San Amaro, but he felt pretty good. He had goals.
Of course this sponsorship issue put a tiny wrinkle in his plans. Now he had a sexy little marketing and PR manager riding him about being on his best behavior. A smile tugged at his lips, remembering how earnest she was about cleaning up his image and doing all that charity work.
Him? Yeah right.
He’d go along with her and do what he had to do, but he wasn’t doing any
more
than he had to do, because he had one goal—to win this competition. Okay, he had two goals. Win the competition, and get through Corey and Matt’s wedding without making a fool of himself. That one would probably be the tougher one.
He started the car again and headed back to the freeway.
But no, the wedding didn’t have to be the harder goal, because now he had Brooke. He grinned. He could do this. He could play along with Brooke, make nice with his sponsor so the money kept coming, show Corey and Matt he was A-okay with them getting married because he’d totally moved on, and he’d spend as much time as he possibly could working out, surfing and preparing for the competition. Yeah. It was all good. He flicked on his blinker and shoulder checked, then he made a series of daring lane changes as he approached his exit into San Amaro.
But once he’d checked into the hotel and hauled his stuff into his room, he sat on the bed staring out the window that overlooked Deep Sea Drive. A bleak, black feeling crept over him, that feeling that made him go out and smoke and drink and party and bring girls back to his room for sex so he didn’t have to be alone. He closed his eyes briefly and sucked in a long breath. Maybe he’d call Matt and see what they were doing later. Get that over with before he did exactly what Brooke had warned him not to do.
He grabbed his cell phone and thumbed through his contacts till he found Matt’s cell number and pressed the button to connect them. It was Friday afternoon; Matt was likely at the brew pub he owned. After a couple of rings, Matt picked up.
“Hey, dude,” Dylan said. “How’s it going?”
“Dylan? Hey! What the hell, man? You get caught in that hurricane?”
“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t call but there was no cell or Internet service.”
“You’re okay though?”
“Yeah, yeah. It wasn’t that bad. Holed up in the hotel for a couple of days.”
“Probably not alone,” Matt said, and Dylan heard his smile in his voice.
“As a matter of fact, no, I wasn’t,” Dylan drawled, speaking the truth. “And guess what? I’m back in the States and you’ll get to meet her.”
“Shut the fuck up! You’re back? Already?”
“I am. I’m checked in at the San Amaro Hilton.”
“Hey, that’s great! So does that mean you’ll be here for the wedding?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ll stand up with me?”
“If you still want me to.”
“You know I do. That’s fanfuckingtastic!”
“You’re at work?”
“Yeah. Wanna come over?”
“I have some business shit to do,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe we can get together later?”
“Come for dinner. Don’t worry, we’ll order pizza or something. But why a hotel, man? You could’ve stayed with us.”
Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. No way in fucking hell would he stay in Matt’s little cottage with him and Corey. “I need space,” he said. “Thanks anyway. I have a lot to do in the next few weeks.”
“I guess. Okay, so I’ll be home by seven. Come over whenever. I’ll let Corey know you’re here.”
“Yeah.” A few seconds of silence told him Matt was wondering too how this was going to go.
“You bringing this new girl?” Matt asked then.
“Oh. No. Not tonight. We just flew in this afternoon, she had work to do and family to see. They were kind of freaked out about the storm.”
“Oh, okay. But she can come if you want.”
“Sure, but I doubt it. Okay, see you later.”
He clicked off. Okay. He was going to do this. He’d go over there and have pizza and maybe a beer and talk just like old times and…he’d leave and come back here to this hotel room all by himself.
Holy shit, he was really having a pity party. He had nothing to be so down about, for God’s sake. That was all in the past and he was on a winning streak and this time he had a damn good shot at beating Heath Marlow. The Australian had been crowned ASP World Champion seven times, including five consecutive titles in the last five years. Dylan had come so close in Tahiti and he was frothing to come out ahead of the world famous surfer. He was determined it was going to happen this time.
Now he had calls to make to the rest of his team, finding out where they all were and when they could get their asses here. He needed Elroy, who shaped his boards, Brett, who coached him, his trainer Austin, and he’d have to call Holden and find out more about this whole deal with Jackson Cole. And oh yeah, find out how Holden’s new baby was doing.
Shiz, a baby. That was pretty freaky. Holden was a former pro surfer with a good head for business who’d become manager and agent to a number of pro athletes
–
skateboarders, snowboarders and surfers. Dylan had a lot of respect for the guy, valued his opinions and advice and trusted him to do what was best for his career, but in the year since Holden had gotten married his life had changed. And now he had a baby.
Dylan located the rest of his team, assured them he was fine after the storm in Tahiti and was now back in San Amaro and ready to prepare for the next competition. He made plans with Elroy to have a look at his boards, and with Austin to meet on Monday to work out. But Holden reamed his ass out over this shit with Jackson Cole.
“Do you think I liked having them contact me like that?” he demanded. “Do you think I liked them telling me to go find you and get you under control?”
“They wanted you to come to Tahiti?”
“Yeah. But I couldn’t leave, obviously.”
So that was how Brooke had ended up there.
“We need to sit down in my office and have a serious discussion about your career,” Holden said. “First thing Monday morning.”
Well, shit. Dylan rubbed his eyes. More lecturing. Had he really screwed up that bad?
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll be there.”
He took a shower and changed before heading over to Matt and Corey’s place. Because now it wasn’t just Matt’s place, Corey lived there too. Which made it all different. Christ, why did he find himself wishing Brooke was there with him?
Chapter Nine
Dylan stood outside the front door of his friend Matt’s cottage near the beach, his insides in knots. Then the door opened and Matt appeared with a big smile on his face. “Hey, man! Come on in!”
Dylan stepped into the house, a house that now had a scent he would forever associate with Corey—a sweet mingling of chocolate and vanilla. His heart bumped against his ribs and he looked at Matt, who he hadn’t seen in over a year, his best buddy from way, way back. Matt hadn’t changed—same square jaw, same sparkling golden-brown eyes, same easy smile, but although the smile seemed genuinely happy, his eyes held a hint of apprehension.
They looked at each other and the few seconds seemed to stretch on interminably as thoughts and memories rushed through Dylan’s head. He swallowed. Fuck it, this guy was one of the most important people in his life, even if he had ended up with the girl. He smiled. “Dude.” He stepped toward Matt with arms outstretched, and Matt did the same. They threw their arms around each other and hugged, both of them holding on tight. Then they slapped each other’s backs as they stepped away.
Matt’s smile went crooked. “Good to see you, man. Thanks for coming.” He paused. “Really.”
Dylan knew they were both thinking the same things, both remembering the same things, and they both knew why this moment was so loaded. “Yeah,” he said. He’d make this easy for Matt if it killed him. “Of course I’d come. I wasn’t sure how I was going to swing it, but as it turned out, the decision was made for me.”
“How’s that? Come on, let’s get beer.”
Matt led the way down a short hall to the kitchen at the back of the house.
“One of my sponsors wanted me to come back early and do some promotion work,” Dylan told him, cleaning up the story somewhat. “So here I am.” He followed Matt, his eyes darting into the living room as they passed the arched doorway, looking for Corey. Not there. Maybe in the kitchen? His skin itched with the anticipation of seeing her again.
“Which sponsor?”
“Jackson Cole.”
“Cool. So you’re back well before the competition and in lots of time for the wedding.”
“Yeah.” No Corey in the kitchen either. Dylan’s stomach jumped with nerves. “Speaking of wedding—where’s the blushing bride?”
Matt grinned, looking over his shoulder from the refrigerator. “Blushing bride. Ha. She went to pick up some wine. She should be back any minute. Here.” He handed Dylan a cold bottle. “Check it out.”
Dylan looked at the beer in his hand, turning it to read the label. “I Do Brew,” he read, his eyes moving over the black and white cartoon picture of a bride and groom. He laughed and the real amusement relaxed him a little. “You gotta be kidding me, man.”
“Made in honor of the wedding,” Matt said, laughing himself. “Try it. It’s a pale ale.”
Dylan tipped the bottle to his lips and drank. He nodded. “It’s killer, dude.”
Matt reached forward with his bottle and they clinked them together in a toast.
“Congrats,” Dylan said. “Can’t believe you’re tying the knot.”